


rather be dead, rather be fine

by marvellingyou (tourmalinex)



Series: Sufjan Stevens Inspired Fics [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catholicism, First Kiss, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sick Steve Rogers, Slightly - Freeform, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, but only slightly - Freeform, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 16:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18607840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tourmalinex/pseuds/marvellingyou
Summary: Steve has a high fever. Both his mother and Bucky are afraid that this will be his last night.Everywhere you look,Everywhere you turn,Illness is watching,Waiting its turn





	rather be dead, rather be fine

When Steve didn’t show up to their painting class for the third day in a row, Bucky knew something was wrong. Steve was a natural when it came to the arts, and Steve never looked more alive when he had a palette and brush in his hands. Bucky would have swung by the apartment, but they needed more hands at the docks. By the time he left work, it was as if someone had filled his shoes with cement. Every step he took home got heavier and heavier, and his eyelids were no different. As soon as he got home, Bucky would collapse on the couch, falling into an uninterrupted sleep.

But he was going to make time today. He took long strides until he reached home, only wanting to drop off his books. 

“Oh, James!” His mother, Winnie called from the kitchen. “Come here. I need you to do something.”

“What is it ma?” Bucky asked, following his mother’s voice. “Can you make it quick? I’m headin’ over to see Steve.”

Winnie stood at the stove, ladle in hand. With care, she poured some soup into a thermos. “This is for that poor boy. Sarah called and told me he’s runnin’ another fever.”

Bucky bit his lower lip, upset that he was right to worry.

“Is it really bad?”

Winnie sighed, screwing the top of the thermos tight. “Sarah sounded frantic. Just… take this to them, and this.” She handed Bucky the thermos, then pulled out her wallet. “Just in case he needs medicine.” 

“Alright, ma.” Bucky shoved the money in his jacket pocket. “If I’m not back by dinner, I’m stayin’ over there.”

“I know.” Winnie gave Bucky a quick hug. “I know he means a lot to you.”

With a small nod, Bucky headed back out. As far as he could remember, Steve was always sick. Bad eyes, bad hearing in one ear, bad back, bad lungs. And his heart. Oh, his heart. The list went on and on, and Bucky could only feel angry at the world and the heavens. Steve was… wonderful, courageous, kind. Someone like him didn’t deserve so much pain. If it was at all possible, Bucky would share the burden, or fuck, take all of it. But that’s just a dream. 

He arrived at the Rogers’ home, picked up the spare key and let himself in. No one was in the living room, and as far as Bucky could tell, no one was home. His heart pounded and his breathing hitched. They were here, right? Otherwise, they’d be at the hospital. Steve couldn’t be  _ that _ sick, right? It couldn’t be that bad, right? It couldn’t be—

“Hello?” He called out. “Steve? You here?”

A door creaked open. A priest dressed in black clutched his bible, his face solemn. Sarah followed behind him with red eyes and her tear stained face. The priest only nodded at Bucky before leaving.

“James, I’m glad you’re here.” Sarah wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. Bucky gulped, his mind racing.

“Where’s Steve?” His voice was shaking. “Is he—”

“—he’s in bed,” Sarah said softly. “The priest just came by to give him his last rites. He’s not… he’s not doing good. His fever won’t go down, and he isn’t eating. My baby…”

Bucky set down the thermos in the kitchen, then rushed to Sarah’s side, pulling her in for a hug. Sarah was another mother to him. For as long as he’d known Steve, Sarah welcomed Bucky into her home many a time, treating him just as she treated Steve, like a son. Though it was only for a moment, Sarah allowed herself to sob, letting out the grief and fear she held for her son. Bucky let out a sound—something he couldn’t quite place. A whimper? His heart was crashing to the floor, shattering into a million pieces and he didn’t know if he was capable of putting it back together.

Sarah managed to pull away from Bucky, her gaze low in shame. “I, uhm, need to run to the hospital,” she said. “To prepare things, just in case. Please—”

“—I’ll stay with him.” Bucky smiled softly, though his eyes stung. “If somethin’...  _ happens _ … I’ll call the hospital.”

“Thank you.” Sarah grabbed her coat and rushed out the door. Bucky locked the door behind her, watching as she raced down the street. 

His mouth was dry as he walked over to Steve’s room, peering through the cracked door. As he entered, Bucky did his damndest to not let any tears stream down his face. Steve’s complexion was as pale as a sheet of paper, and he had dark circles under his eyes. The blonde smiled weakly.

“I was wonderin’ when I’d see see your ugly mug, ya jerk.”

“Punk.” Bucky rolled his eyes. Of course Steve would still joke around. He made his way over towards the bedside and sat on a chair—presumably the one Sarah prayed for her son. Upon closer inspection, Steve’s eyes were red.

“Bucky.” Steve’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Can you do somethin’ for me?”

“Of course.” Bucky placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder. Did he get thinner? “Whatcha need?”

“My drawings… my paintings… sell all of ‘em. Knowing my ma, she’ll want to go all out for the funeral. I don’t wanna burden her like that.” Steve sighed as Bucky’s eyes widened. 

“I’m not doing that, Stevie.”

“Why the fuck not?” 

Bucky winced at Steve’s resignation to death. He wanted to say it was the fever making his best friend delirious. If not, where was fighter Bucky knew?

“‘Cause you ain’t dying.”

“I already look like a damn corpse.” He raised his shaking hand, spreading out his fingers as if he was reaching for the ceiling, as if he was reaching out for the Lord to take him.  _ Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. _ “Maybe I wasn’t meant to live this long.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Bucky begged quietly. “Yeah, you got dealt a shit hand, but that doesn’t mean it won’t turn around one day. Maybe—”

“I’m fuckin’ tired, Buck!” Steve half-shouted, half-cried. He grabbed fistfuls of his blanket. “I’m so fucking  _ tired _ . I… even if I get better, I don’t want this anymore. I want Him to take me. It’ll be a mercy.”

“A mercy,” Bucky echoed. “Dyin’s a mercy instead of, oh, I don’t know, lettin’ you live?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky slammed his fist against the nightstand, nearly knocking over the lamp.

“Well maybe your ma still wants you around!” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not givin’ up on you, and I sure as hell ain’t givin’ you to anyone. Not even God.”

“But I ain’t yours to give.”

And Bucky knew that. Steve didn’t belong to him, even though he wished it every night. All he wanted was to hold Steve close and never let go. Bucky knew he was greedy He wanted to plant kisses on his forehead and hold hands when they walked to class. But those were unattainable desires. He didn’t even know how Steve felt towards him, though Bucky believed it was something along the lines of a familial love. He’d seen the way Steve stared as girls clung onto his arm.

Bucky stood up and inched closer to the bed. “Steve, move your ass over.” 

“Why?”

“‘Cause I said so, punk.” He bit his lower lip. “I already told your ma I was stayin’ here. So scooch.” 

Steve grumbled as he made room for Bucky. “I don’t know how the hell we’re gonna fit.”

Bucky kicked off his shoes and climbed into the bed. “Yeah, like that ever stopped us before.”

They both laid on their backs, Bucky’s large frame nearly overtaking the small bed. This wasn’t going to work, Bucky knew that. Instead, he shifted around so that he was on his side, facing Steve, who for all his complaining didn’t look upset as their eyes met. In all the years they’d known each other, Bucky couldn’t recall a time where Steve looked so  _ haunted _ . He wanted to say something, do anything, but Bucky just didn’t know what would be best.

“You know you’re gonna be okay, right?” Steve asked, earning a puzzled look from Bucky. “After I’m six feet under, you’ll find a nice dame, get married, have a few kids. You’re gonna go out into the world and  _ live _ . You’re gonna retire and all of this, right now… you’ll have so many good memories that you won’t even think about me.”

Bucky bit his tongue. He  _ knew _ what Steve was doing, and he didn’t mean anything cruel by it. But that didn’t lessen the pain. His eyes were stinging with tears. He didn’t care to hide how he felt. Bucky wasn’t sure how he looked, but whatever expression he made was enough for Steve’s eyes to go from hollow to horrified. 

“Buck, I—”

“—you’re a real fuckin’ piece of work, Rogers.” Bucky’s tears flowed freely as his voice hitched “You’re a fucking idiot. Like hell I’d never think ‘bout you. I swear… if you fucking leave me and go where I can’t follow… you really think I could forget you?”

“No,” Steve said quietly, his eyes watering. “But you should.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.” Bucky wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands. “If I want to think about you, I’ll think about you. I already think about you every damn day.” He wrapped his arms around Steve and pulled him close, making the smaller man yelp in surprise. Bucky pressed the back of Steve’s head towards his chest. He could feel the heat of Steve’s breath through the thin fabric of his shirt. 

“Let it out, Stevie,” Bucky said quietly as he ran his hand through Steve’s hair. “I know you’ve been keepin’ it all in.”

Steve was shaking, so Bucky just held him tighter. And that was enough for the dam to break. Steve choked out a sob, only for it to escalate to a full blown cry, laced with anger, bitterness and grief.

“S’not fair!” He shouted into Bucky’s chest. “I don’t wanna die!”

“I know, Steve.” Bucky’s voice wavered. “I don’t want you to go.”

Against his better judgement, Bucky pressed his lips on the top of Steve’s head. He hadn’t done that since they were kids. Whenever Steve scraped his knee, or got a black eye, Bucky kissed his wounds. 

“My ma does that for me,” he explained. “It makes the pain go away.” But when they got too old for such childish things, he stopped giving Steve his kisses. 

Steve tensed up, and Bucky realized what he had done. The blonde looked up at him, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes wide and questioning. Although he was apprehensive, Bucky brought his hand to Steve’s chin, tilting his head upwards. He brought his own face closer, and kissed near the corners of those beautiful blue eyes, where all Steve’s tears were pooling.

“I don’t want your pity, Buck,” Steve said as he pulled away. “M’not a kid anymore.”

Bucky’s stomach twisted. “How could I ever pity you?” He swallowed thickly before allowing the words to float up and out. “I… I love you, Stevie. So damn much. I know it’s queer and wrong, but I can’t help it. Outta everyone in Brooklyn, New York, fuck even the world… you’re it for me.”

He didn’t expect anything, except for maybe a look of disgust. Instead, Steve buried his face back into Bucky’s chest.

“... is this a fever dream?” he asked. “Am I dreaming this?”

Bucky gulped. “O-Only if you want it to be.” He felt Steve shaking his head.

“No.” Steve looked back up at Bucky, then kissed his cheek. “I don’t want it to be just a dream.”

Before they knew it, they were giving each other small, lingering kisses against each other’s cheeks, each other’s foreheads. They gazed at each other for what felt like an eternity, as if to make up for the time lost due to fear of rejection and hatred. Bucky cupped Steve’s face, stroking his thumb against his cheek.

“Stevie,” he whispered. “Is this okay? Can I… Can I kiss you?”

Steve nodded and closed his eyes. As their lips touched, shivers crawled up Bucky’s spine. He’d kiss many a dame, but those kisses didn’t even come close to this. 

“Let’s get some sleep.” Bucky said, pulling away, much to Steve’s disappointment. “I’ll be right here when you wake up, okay?”

Steve open his mouth in protest, but Bucky wouldn’t have it. “You’re gonna wake up in the mornin’ okay? We’re gonna have breakfast with your ma and I’m gonna run down to the store and get ya more charcoal. I’ll even model for you if you want.”

“As if your handsomeness could be captured on paper,” Steve said with a small chuckle.

Bucky snorted. “Sap.”

“But I’m your sap… aren’t I?”

“Yeah.” Bucky smiled as his eyes fluttered close. “You are.”

Both of them drifted off the sleep, limbs tangled together. Bucky never felt such joy as the next morning, seeing Steve sitting up in bed, eyes focused on him, with sketchbook in his lap.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! I've been working on this series based off of Sufjan Stevens' songs, because there are several songs that give me immense stucky feels. This fic was inspired by "I Want to Be Well," which in my opinion, is the angriest song about being sick. It's honestly such a mood. The title comes from the verse: 
> 
>  
> 
> _Illness likes to prey upon the lonely, prey upon the lonely_  
>  Wave goodbye, oh, I would rather be dead  
> I would rather be fine
> 
>  
> 
> Although "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest" is a quote from the bible, I remembered a song from Catholic school based off of this, so I decided to add it in. 
> 
> Also, as an aside, my mother's death anniversary is approaching, so I've been feeling many things. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope this was somewhat enjoyable. Feel free to check out my other fic, [where the music's playing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17927270/chapters/42331706), which will be updated every Friday.
> 
> Come bother me on [tumblr](http://www.marvelling-you.tumblr.com) so we can scream about Endgame. Comments and kudos give me life!


End file.
